I write again;
Writing, my blues,
Writing, my bleeding heart;
Writing, my bleeding faith.

I once was like everyone else,
A believer, an optimist;
Then, it hit me, it consumed me:
The truths and the reality.

Now I rot, my mind staring, blank;
My visions, shrouded with darkness.
My everything, painted pitch-black,
My humaneness, destroyed.